One of the first half-dozen mermaids I've made. Sculpture mix; blue, green, and grey glazing. I considered cleaning the dust off her, but held off. That's her fate, garage-bound. I dream of attaching her to a wharf piling and seeing if barnacles and other intertidal creatures would bond with her, but I haven't followed through on the vision.
Aside from that broken trident, she's all one hunk of clay, hair included, pulled into shape less from a sense of greater structural integrity (which she has), but more from a lack of knowledge (at the time) of how to sculpt and put together figures. All of my pieces back then were made from one hunk of clay in whatever time it took to give the figure a shape, often quite rough, before the clay became too dry, too stiff, too worked over.
She's definitely mannish, but that's how she looks. She's a warrior of the sea. I like fierceness, the Amazon face, and I like strong noses in general, anyway.
She doesn't have a name. Or, she's never gifted me with her name.
Perhaps she's too far from the water to speak such an intimacy.
